Let Her Go
by Gabrielle607
Summary: "I love them. I'm just afraid of giving it to them." Sherlock was never a man of emotions. The thought never crossed his mind. But what happens when the one person that mattered to him the most starts slipping from his grasp?
1. A Mistake

**Disclaimer: None of these characters is mine. Only the plot.**

* * *

Molly Hooper was a woman with an unusual life. She works as a pathologist and seems to enjoy it, she's single, she dated a psychopath and is in love with a high functioning sociopath; the reason why her fiance, Tom, left her. And there she lay on her bed, sheets pulled up against her chest while watching the consulting detective quickly dress in front of her.

"We shouldn't have done this." Sherlock said, pulling up his trousers and buckling his belt.

"Um... Y-yeah... But it was great," Molly said shyly, trying to keep a light conversation. Even though she just spent the night screwing around with him under the sheets, she still felt shy around him. She looked up at him, and judging by the look on his face, he almost looked disgusted. Or was it her cruel mind playing tricks again? This made Molly look away from him.

He looked at her, seeing the pain on her face. Of course he knew about her feelings for him. But she has no idea how much he cares about her. He cares so much that he pushes her away, to avoid further pain. He's not the one for sentiment, as he said. And its true. He's grateful for what Molly has done for him; helping him fake his death, letting him use the lab at Bart's, all of those. He wants to make it up to her, but it seems that every time he does, every time he tries to show how much he's grateful, there's always that look of pain and disappointment in her eyes. Then it dawned to him that the only way he can repay her is if he gives her his, what people call, "love". He tries to, but he can't.

He's incapable of love.

So, he stopped trying. Because if he tries, its not enough to stop the disappointment and pain flashing through her brown eyes. He can't give her what she wants. So he's trying to make her realize this now, rather than to try and pretend that he can only to make her realize that he's been lying to her all this time; in other words, it saves her the pain.

"Molly, I'm sorry." He said while storming out of her bedroom to collect his scarf and coat.

"Wait... Hold on," She said, grabbing her dressing gown. She followed him angrily to the living room, where he was wrapping his scarf around his neck. She can't let him slip away like that. Not now. Not ever. "Sherlock, you can't just waltz in to my house, screw around and just walk out in a snap! Sherlock... Tell me, please. Why do you act like you actually care for me for a moment and then shut me out in the next?" She asked, tears threatening to spill. He wore his coat and he looked at her straight in the eyes.

"I'm sorry, Molly. I cannot give you whatever it is you want from me."

"Sherlock, all I want from you is to stop shutting me out. Please." She said, looking at his eyes, pleading for an answer. But his eyes says it all, and it says nothing. She started to look down, not wanting to see her like this; on the verge of breaking.

"Goodbye, Molly." Was all he said. At first, he contemplated whether to kiss her cheek or not. But then, it would disappoint her even more. He'd hurt her, like he always does. So he fled, leaving Molly to her own thoughts.

'Don't cry, Molly. Don't cry. Enough tears has been shed for Sherlock Holmes. Do not cry for Sherlock.'

But then again, there was nothing she wouldn't do for Sherlock.

* * *

Molly sat in her lab, documenting the recent autopsy she did awhile ago on a Darius Smith, when the doors opened. She looked up from what she was writing and saw John Watson walking into the lab.

"Evening, Molly." He greeted.

"Evening. The things he asked for... They're over there." She said, pointing to the box on the table across the lab. He nodded and walked towards it. Its been over a month now, since his one night stand with her and she haven't seen him since. John would always text her about the things Sherlock needed for his experiment and he'd also pick it up.

Molly felt a wave of nausea hit her again. She glanced at the time.

"Damn." She muttered. She hasn't eaten a thing since morning and at the same time, she forgot the bottle of pills sitting next to her bedside table.

"I'm sorry?" John asked.

"Oh. Um, nothing." She said as John shrugged it off. As of now, her head is spinning and she felt her brow beginning to sweat.

"Molly, are you alright? You look a bit peaky and... pale."

"Um... Yeah. My head- its just... Its a bit of head ache, that's all."

"Oh. Do you want me to-"

**THUD!**

John didn't get to finish his sentence as a now unconscious Molly fell to the floor with a thud. He immediately dropped the box and wrent beside the unconscious pathologist.

* * *

Molly now woke up in a hospital bed. Her head hurts a bit less now, but it still hurts, nonetheless. That's when she saw John sitting on a nearby chair.

"John?" His head snapped up to look at her and he gave her a friendly smile.

"Molly, you're awake." He said, and he sighed.

"Yeah. Um... Thanks for bringing me here."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"Molly, I know that we were never that close but... You're pregnant." Ever since Sherlock died, she was, what you can say, a shoulder to cry on. She's the only other one who he can talk to, besides Mrs. Hudson. After all they've been through, you can say that John owes her.

"I'm so sorry John," she spluttered, tears rushing down her face. "I-I didn't know who to call. I can't call my mum, she'll end up screaming at me. I-I didn't want to bother you because you might be busy with Mary or solving a case." She didn't want to go on with the list, knowing it would end up with Sherlock.

Suddenly, John's phone went off.

You don't have to be a genius to know that it's Sherlock on the other end of the phone and that he was bugging John for the lab equipment he asked him to fetch.

"I'm sorry, Molls. I have to get back to Baker Street before Sherlock starts shooting off the wall again."

"I-It's alright... I'll be fine." She said, wiping her tears.

"Bye. Call me if you need anything." He said, before running off, leaving the exhausted pathologist to her own thoughts.

* * *

**Thanks for reading my story and for those who are wondering, there WILL BE A CHAPTER 2. This isn't a one-shot. And fair warning: I might update after a long time due to internet problems. So, tell me what you think, leave a review, and if there are any correction is grammar or spelling, please do not hesitate to mention it. Thanks! :)**

**~Gabrielle**


	2. Shutting Out

**Hi guys! I'm back. Thank you so much for those who followed, reviewed, and favorite-d my story! :) It boosts up my energy to write!  
**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Only the plot.**

* * *

Molly opened the door to her flat. She can't wait to drop on her bed. After an exhausting day, who wouldn't? She was planning on going straight to her bed but she only managed to make it to the couch. As she lay her head on the arm of the couch, the events of today replayed in her mind. So she fainted and now, all of her colleagues know she's pregnant, including the best friend of the father... Great.

Sherlock... She could just imagine the future of her with his child. He can imagine a boy with black curly hair, running towards her, asking where his daddy was. Why he doesn't show up. And sooner or later, she has to see those brown eyes being filled with hurt as she tells him why he's not with her.

Then, she suddenly felt thirsty. 'Oh right. I haven't eaten or drank anything since this morning.' Deciding to eat a light snack before going to bed, she made her way to her kitchen, grabbing a glass.

"You should be resting." A baritone voice suddenly said, almost causing Molly to drop the glass, but another hand caught it.

Of course. He would've known.

She got the glass from his hand and filled it with water. She faced her back at him. She doesn't want to talk to him now. After leaving her like that? Nope.

"John said you fainted," Sherlock said. He was nervous and concerned for her, of course. 'I don't think she sees that.' Sherlock thought. Why won't she talk to him? He knows the effects of what he did about a month ago, but... Its been a month. She should be over that, right? "Molly?"

"So that's what it takes for you to notice me? If something bad happens, you'll go to me. Huh, for a moment, I thought if I died, you wouldn't even notice," She said coldly, making Sherlock feel even more nervous. Sherlock was about to answer when Molly cut him off. "And yes, I did faint awhile ago. Now that you know, can you please go?" She said, finally facing him.

"Molly, what's happening?" He asked, annoyed that he doesn't know what's going on. He always knows...

"Good lord! You're so dense! Sherlock... I'm pregnant."

* * *

Sherlock went numb. There are two possibilities. Its either, its his baby, or while he was gone, she went around having one night stands with men that she met at the pub. He felt that familiar constriction of his chest at the last thought. Although, the second thought was unlikely and he knows its his. But the thought of having a child, the thought of having a small child made his heart ache and beat with excitement at the same time.

Was he ready? No. Can he be a good father? No. Does he want to? Of course he does. Can he love the child? It was on that question that Sherlock's confidence and thoughts of being a father faltered. No. He won't ever love the child enough. As much as he does, it won't be enough. He's afraid that because of that, his child would hate him. Treat him, well... differently. But then, there was Molly. Oh his sweet, sweet, Molly who loved him unconditionally. What would she say to him? He'll hurt her again. But no matter what, she'll always be his. But can he be hers? No... He's unworthy to belong to her. She deserves someone better.

"Sherlock, say something." She said, her calm facade breaking a bit and all those worry and grief pouring through her eyes. He can't stand it. Those sweet, caring eyes that he grew to love was now ruined and sad because of one sinful and lustful act that he did.

So he left.

* * *

Molly woke up to the sound of the doorbell. She jolted from her sleep and found herself curled up in the kitchen. Memories of last night flooded her mind. As soon as Sherlock left her,tears had been shed. But they weren't just sad ones. She was angry at him.

_"He left out the one person that mattered the most. You made it all possible."_

_"Molly, you do count."_

And not to mention, THAT night..

* * *

_Molly was working late at Bart's and Sherlock just finished working on a case. John left early. Being a married man, he and Sherlock weren't the same Dynamic Duo that they used to be. And Molly, she just had a nasty encounter with Tom a few days ago._

_"Still chasing after him, are you? Well don't even bother. I know men like him. He won't love someone like you. And once you realize that, Molls, once those delusions of yours about him having a heart disappear, it would be my pleasure to say 'I told you so'!"_

_That was enough to leave Molly thinking. She denied the fact that Sherlock would never feel anything special for her. She still had hope. But Tom's biting words got the best of her._

_"Are you alright, Molly?" Sherlock said, his voice pulling her out of her thoughts._

_"Um... Yeah. I'm fine." She replied without thinking and one of the most unconvincing lies she ever told._

_"Molly, you've been staring at the same slide for 20 minutes. You didn't even bother removing it from the microscope," He said, trying to keep the mood light. But he turned serious as he read her. Bloodshot eyes, disheveled appearance -depressed. She'd only be depressed if. "What did Tom do?"_

_"Sherlock, I really don't want to talk about this." She said, the thought obviously weighing her down. After a long silence, Sherlock spoke up._

_"Fancy dinner, Molly?"  
_

_"What?" The offer took her aback. This is a rare moment for her. Sherlock Holmes, asking her out? Its something unheard of._

_"Its the least I can do for, you know... letting me use the lab and all.__"_

_Molly thought about it and smiled..._

_"Why not?"_

* * *

Molly's thoughts were cut off when she heard the doorbell ring again. She stood up, rubbing her eyes and stretching her sore limbs. She walked towards the door and opened it, expecting Sherlock coming to apologize or John making sure she's alright, but she was a bit disappointed when she saw the mail man.

"Molly Hooper?" He asked.

"Um... Yeah. That's me."

"Delivery from Sherlock Holmes." He took out a manila folder and handed it to her. She signed the paper on the clipboard he held out to her and left. She opened to see a thick stack of 100 euro bills, and a note. It was only a small paper and she only had to read it once to know what it truly meant.

'_For you, Molly. I wish you a happy future. From your dearest Sherlock.'_

He was shutting her out of his life.

* * *

**That's it for Chapter 2! Sorry guys, if its not what you expected, but trust me, it gets better. Anyways, thank you again for your lovely reviews and I hope that you leave me more! Whether its good or bad, its fine with me. So, stay tuned for chapter three!**

**~Gabrielle**


	3. Big Events

**Hey guys! So, I know how much you guys want to see Sherlock get a taste of his own medicine, but sadly, this isn't the chapter. But, don't fret, its closer than you think. Meanwhile, I have a gut feeling you'll hate me for this one.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Only the plot and some OC that you'll come to know.**

* * *

The doorbell rang and Molly quickly answered the door. She was waiting for him. After reading the note, she can called the one person who will listen.

"Molly, what's wrong?" Molly let John in and as he shut the doors, she threw her arms around his waist and cried.

"Oh, John! I-I didn't know w-who else to call. I-I panicked. I-I didn't know what to do." She sobbed into his chest. John lead her to the sofa and sat down with her. He held her shaking hands, hoping to calm her down.

"Its alright, Molly. Let it out... Tell me what happened." He said reassuringly, patting her back.

"T-The father... visited me." She said, carefully treading through the facts. She doesn't want John to know that his best friend was the one who screwed her. Not yet. Not like this.

"Well... That's good, isn't it?" He asked hopefully.

"No, it's not. In fact, its far from it... H-He... He told me that he didn't want the child. Today, he gave me money for the child and myself." Then, she showed him the manila folder and his eyes went wide when he saw the stack of money. By then, Molly already threw away the note that Sherlock sent him. John just sighed.

"John, he won't even help me through this. I-I'm alone in this."

"No. No you're not, Molly. You have me."

"B-But Mary-"

"Will help too," He said, giving her a reassuring smile. "In fact, all of your friends will be with you. Me, Mary, Mrs. Hudson... Hell, even Sherlock might even care." He said jokingly, hoping to keep a light mood, but judging my the look on Molly's face, he knew it was a wrong move.

"Sorry. Bad Joke. But, the point is, Molly, we're all here for you. If you need us, we're just a phone call away," Molly turned into a wreck of sobs at the reassurance. John then pulled Molly into a comforting hug. "What kind of sick bastard has turned you into this?"

* * *

The door of 221B Baker Street slammed shut with full force that it might have shattered the door itself. Then the angry footfalls and the door slamming again... Won't it ever stop?

"Whatever I did now, It must have upset you in a way." Sherlock drawled. He was sitting on his usual leather chair, cleaning his violin.

"What's with all the noise?" Mrs. Hudson said as she went up to Sherlock's flat.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hudson, and no, Sherlock, it isn't you this time." He said, pacing around the room. Mrs Hudson was at the doorway now, listening to whatever John has to say.

"Then if its not me, why the childish tantrum? Did you and Mary get into one of your silly fights again?" Sherlock said, clearly uninterested.

"No, Sherlock. Its about Molly Hooper."

Sherlock felt his breath hitch to his throat.

"Oh! Is that the pretty girl from Christmas? The girl Sherlock-" Mrs. Hudson asked but Sherlock cut her off.

"What about her?" He knew that it must have hurt her. Who was he kidding? Of course he did! He felt badly about it and wished that he could take it back. But the past is the past. It was for her own good.

'"What about her?' Sherlock, she's pregnant. Molly wouldn't tell me who the father is, but he is a complete, and utter prick! He thinks that he could just knock her up and leave her like that? And today, the moron sent her loads of money saying that he doesn't want to be involved with the child anymore!" From John's outburst, the only thing that could be heard was Mrs. Hudson's muttering of 'Oh, that poor girl' and her retreating footfalls. As John calmed down, he sat on the couch and faced the ceiling. "Its just that... Why would he do that to her? Out of all the people, Molly? She's a sweet woman and now, he's ruined her."

Then after a long silence, Sherlock finally spoke.

"You're right about one thing, John."

"What is it?"

"He **is **a moron."

* * *

Its been nearly seven months now. Molly was 7 months pregnant and the baby was due within a month or so. Of course, as John promised, friends were there to support her, and as expected, the only one who never even bothered to check her was Sherlock.

_'Just one phone call, Sherlock! Not even a simple reassuring text wouldn't hurt.' John exclaimed._

_'Not now, John. I'm busy.' He drawled as he continued scribbling down notes and looking through the microscope in his kitchen lab._

_'Sherlock, after all she's done for you?'_

_Sherlock didn't reply._

Of course, it still hurts Molly that he never bothered to contact her but its less, now that some of her love for Sherlock has been replaced with the love for her growing son. She held her round stomach and smiled sadly.

"If only your dad could have loved us." And as if on impulse, there was a kick from him. She collected the paperwork on her desk. She insisted on working at Bart's since its her only source of income and they agreed, but they only gave her paperwork and avoided strenuous activities.

"Molly, what are you still doing here?!" Mike Stamford said as he entered the lab.

"Just finishing paperwork, sir."

"Well, stop it now and go home. Its not healthy for you."

"Alright. Let me clean up and I'll-"

"No, no, no. You will do no such thing," He said, handing her her coat and bag. "I'll do it. You go home and rest." She thanked him as she wore her coat and took her bag.

"Thanks. See you tomorrow."

"Okay. See you tomorrow." She said, before walking out of Bart's and hailing a cab.

* * *

Big things happen because of the timing of series of events from different people in different situations. Now the cab driver who fetched Molly Hooper at St. Bartholomew's Pathology Center had a fight with his wife, which caused him to be later than his usual schedule. His first passenger was a businesswoman who forgot her keys at home, so she asked him to go back to get her keys. After dropping her off to her workplace, he picked up a young man who's having an affair with another young woman and accidentally stayed the night in her flat and needed to go back before his wife gets home from the airport. He arrived at the young man's flat at around 12:30 only to forget his phone in the cab, therefore running after the cab. After that passenger, the cabbie went back to his wife and reconciled over lunch. The cabbie left at about 12:00 pm to continue with his day. He picked up an old man who needed to go to Cardiff to get the letters that he never knew about from his late wife. On the journey back, the old man had a stroke and the cabbie brought him to the nearest hospital, so he had to go back to Cardiff. Being a kind man, he waited a few hours before he was assured that the old man would be alright, before heading back to London. While he was in London, he managed to pass by St. Bartholomew's Pathology Center and Molly Hooper, who had to go back in the lab to get her scarf, hailed his cab. Meanwhile, a banker got a call saying that his house was set on fire, which got him jittery. He went to his car, which was parked at the corner and therefore, needed to be reversed. Since his nerves got the best of him, he immediately stepped on the pedal without checking his back. Now, if the cabbie didn't have a fight with his wife, if the businesswoman remembered her keys, if the young man didn't stay over his mistress' flat or remembered his phone, if the old man didn't have a stroke, or if Molly remembered her scarf then the chances of Molly Hooper getting his cab would be 70% less and if the banker looked at the side car mirror before going in reverse, the cab that Molly was in wouldn't be in time to hit the banker's car. But alas, such thoughts of regret only come after the big event itself has happened.

* * *

**So, that's it for chapter 3! I know... What the f*ck was I thinking? Please, I hope you don't hate me enough not to leave a review. I love your reviews. I can't believe I actually made you semi-hate Sherlock. Anyways, to that guest who was like 'Molly knew she was pregnant?', yes, she does. It wasn't mentioned, but it was implied. Anyways, I love you guys, but I'm afraid I won't be able to update within this week and probably half of the next. I'm sorry guys, but like what I said, internet here is complicated. So, thanks for reading, please leave a review and I am sorry if I disappointed you in any way through this chapter- whether its this message, the accident, or the shortness of this chapter.**

**~Gabrielle**


	4. Sins and Confessions

**Hi guys! I'm back! So, I know you all must hate me after that horrible cliffhanger and sorry if you guys went mad waiting for what happens next. First, I would like to thank those who followed my story. At first, it was around 10 and now, 30+! Wow! Second, I would like to thank those who reviewed, it inspires me to write and since I try to give what my reviewers requested... well... Just keep on reading *smug grin*. So, this is chapter 4 and I hope this makes up for the awful things I did. So, enjoy this chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the plot and any character you're unfamiliar with. Oh, and just imagine Robert Blake as Cillian Murphy or something.**

* * *

John was practically running through Bart's only t stop at the sight of Mary outside the emergency room -arms crossed tightly and eyes red and puffy. Earlier that day, he received a text from her.

_John, come to Bart's now. Its Molly. -M_

As soon as he read it, he quickly left Baker Street, not caring if Sherlock would be upset to find him missing after promising him his help to solve a case.

"Mary." He said, wrapping his arms around her as she sobbed.

"Oh John," she sobbed on his shoulder. "H-Her accident. T-The doctors said they have no choice but to remove him. John, what if h-he doesn't-"

"Mary, don't think like that. He'll survive," He said, resting his chin on the top of her head as his wife sobbed. "He has to."

The next few hours were hell for the couple; hours of sitting down, pacing, falling asleep only to be jolted awake from the screams of their friend in the emergency room, and of course, waiting. It was a torture for them to hear their friend's screams of agony.

Until it stopped.

"John-" Mary started, but John gave her a look saying to stop whatever she's supposed to say. The doors of the emergency room opened and the couple bolted up from their seats. The doctor, who looked like he was in his mid thirties, looked disheveled. Blood shot eyes, tired face, and a few splashes of blood on his lab coat.

"Are you relatives of Molly Hooper?"

"Um. We're friends; John and Mary Watson." He introduced.

"Mr. Watson, I'm Dr. Robert Blake. I'm also a close friend of Molly's." He said, his eyes downcast.

"How is she?" John asked.

"Broken ribs, a few bruises here and there, including a part of her forehead. She's unconscious for the mean time and she's being transferred to a room for confinement."

"And the baby?" Mary asked, her grip on John's arm tightening, but he didn't seem to mind. Robert looked at them, telling him about Molly's child.

* * *

John entered Molly's room. It was a small one and there she was; sweet, sweet Molly, who now looked so tired and different. Her face was filled with cuts and bruises, she was hooked up to an I.V. and an oxygen tank. Her closed eyes fluttered open and she saw John standing there. She smiled weakly at him and he returned a sad one.

"I know. I look like shit." She said, laughing a bit. John took a nearby chair and placed it beside Molly's bed.

"How are you feeling Molls?" He asked.

"Just like how I look. But, at least I'm alive," She said as she smiled. "John, where's my son? I'd like to see him." She said, her tired eyes filling up with hope. How can John tell her? He held her hand, not looking at her eyes.

"John, where **is** my son?"

"Molls," He started, his grip on her hand tightening a bit. "M-Molls, he never made it." He finally looked at her, straight in the eyes and that hope slowly draining from her eyes.

"John, tell me you're joking."

"Molls, h-his lungs weren't fully developed and he was injured from the crash. He never made it." It was times like this in the army that John didn't mind. He used to tell soldiers that they have no chance of ever walking properly or they'll never hold on to anything ever again and he won't break one bit. But this was different. This was telling a friend that she doesn't have a son anymore.

It broke John to see her like that. These weren't the heart-broken sobs he heard from her whenever they talk about her son's father. It was the cry of pain. The cry of misery. It was when you feel all the hope and happiness are ripped out from your heart, leaving you with nothing except for that one wish to die to end all the pain.

"J-John... C-Can you give me a few moments alone? Please?" She said, her head in her hands, avoiding his gaze. He patted Molly in the back before leaving the room, only to hear the bed rattling, her fists slamming on the mattress and her heart-broken screams. Robert was going to go in when John stopped him.

"No, Dr. Blake. She's had enough for today."

* * *

The following day, John and Mary went back to the hospital. Both of them decided to to take intervals of staying with Molly. They also decided to tell Mrs. Hudson about what happened to Molly. They didn't bother telling Sherlock anymore since it was clear that he's uninterested. As they entered Molly's room, they frowned at her state. Her hair was a mess, those lost, sad eyes looking at the window and gone was that mousy -yet sweet and kind- pathologist that the couple grew to know.

"Hi Molls," Mary greeted, sitting beside her. Molly just gave her a small smile in return. "How are you?"

"Grieving." She replied grimly as she looked away, her smile gone and her lips pressed into a thin line. As much as she tried to smile, it keeps on faltering. Her eyes started to become watery and she released a heavy sigh.

Mary held her hand.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

It broke Mary's heart to see Molly cry.

"Mary, its all my fault," She sobbed into her hands. "I-If I had been careful... I-If I loved it m-more... This wouldn't have happened."

"Molly, it was an accident. These things happen."

"I know, but... I failed to protect him, Mary. Oh God, I'm so sorry." She said, curling up and crying as Mary looked at John sadly. He sighed and stormed out of the room. He can't take it anymore. He has to do something about Molly or else grief will eat her up. He's starting with the father.

"Excuse me, but do you happen to know where Dr. Robert Blake is?" He asked the receptionist and she blushed at the name. She pointed at Robert passing by. "Oh, thanks." He said as he went after the doctor.

"Dr. Blake!"

"Mr. Watson, please call me Robert." He said, giving him a small smile.

"And please, call me John."

"So, John, what can I do for you?" He said, placing down the clipboard he was examining.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Were you busy? 'Cause if you are, I could always come back and-"

"Oh, no. This?" He asked, holding up the clipboard. "These are just Molly's vitals. So, what can I do for you?"

"Um... I was wondering... Have you ran a blood analysis on Molly's son?"

"Yes, we already did. But, unfortunately, it wasn't me. Why?"

"Oh. Well... If its not any trouble, may I see the results?"

"Oh, sure thing. I can look for it. I'll tell you once I find it."

"If it's not too personal, may I ask why?" He asked, his voice low.

"Um... Molly never told me who the father was. And I'm certain that she won't tell me anymore."

* * *

About half an hour later, John received a text.

_Need you for a case. Come to Baker Street now. -SH_

He replied.

_No. Needed at Bart's -JW_

"Who was that?" Molly asked as she pushed her food around her plate.

"No one. Its just Sherlock. Apparently, he needed me at a case."

"You should go see him," She said, dropping her fork. She lost her appetite even more. "He's obviously been busy for the past months."

"Molly, I'm so sorry about Sherlock. I know you liked him... a lot, but he's Sherlock. I'm sorry."

"No, its alright. Not your fault."

Then, another text.

_Baker Street. Case. Needed. NOW -SH_

_For once, Sherlock, no. Like what I said, I'm needed here at Bart's. -JW_

_I'm going there now. -SH_

"Oh... Well, it looks like you'll be having that visit from Sherlock after all." He said, he expected Molly to be at least a bit happy about it, but all he saw there was pure, venomous hate.

"Well, tell him to go screw himself. I don't want to see him." Then, a knock on the door came. John opened it to see Robert standing there, holding a clipboard, yet looking unsure of whatever it is.

"John, I have the results," He said, quietly. John went back inside to tell Molly that he'll be back, and went outside to speak with Robert. "John, I don't know how to tell you this, but..."

"But what? Just tell me who the father is."

Robert looked nervous and unsure as he handed the clipboard.

"I compared the blood analysis of Molly's son to any result similar to his in our database and... Its a 65% match."

As John listened, he flipped the paper on top of it to see the similar result. His eyes were blown wide.

"No... It can't be. Are you sure this is the right file?"

"Yes. At first, I couldn't believe it, but I triple checked it, and the results matched to Sherlock Holmes."

And as if on cue...

"JOHN!"

John didn't even know what to say or feel. He stood there, clutching the clipboard. He was dumbfounded. He was right there in front of his face all along! How could he miss it?! Sherlock Holmes screwed someone. Not to mention Molly Hooper. Out of all the people, him?! He would understand if the bastard was a drunkard but... Not him. Suddenly, he remembered those nights where in her won't be there whenever she needs a shoulder to cry on. Those times where in she needed him, the father, who appeared to be his best friend. Suddenly, he felt so angry at him. How could he be so cold to his son? His own son, abandoned by his father, and now, he's dead.

"You... SELFISH BASTARD!" He said, wrapping his hands around Sherlock's neck and pinning him to the wall. "You fucking prick! You MORON!" He shouted. He felt arms pulling him away from Sherlock, who now was gulping for air.

"What the bloody hell was that for?!" He exclaimed. John managed to shake loose the arms that held him as he punched Sherlock at the right side of his jaw, causing the consulting detective to stumble back, only to fall on his back as John tackled him and started punching him. He then again felt the hands pulling him away from Sherlock.

"OH MY GOD! HOW CAN YOU BE SO IGNORANT?!" He shouted as he squirmed away from the security guards.

"John, what the hell has gotten into you?!"

"Sherlock, you had a child! A goddamn, fucking child with Molly and you pretended that they never existed!

"John, I can't I-"

"Oh my God! You fix this, Sherlock. I've been doing **your **responsibilities all this time, and I won't be the one who would be fixing Molly after what you've done to her!" He said as he stormed out of the hallway.

"Sherlock?" Mary asked as she came running down the hallway. When she reached him, his nose was bloodied up, his jaw was bruised and he was crumpled on the floor. "Oh, good Lord! What happened?!" She asked as she helped him sit up and lean against the wall. She asked again what happened, but he was emotionally and physically injured to answer. John was right. He was a moron. He let go of the one thing that he always wanted. He wanted the child even more, now he thought of it. At first, the idea scared him. He didn't even know what to do, that's why he sent the money to support her. He shut her out and he kept on telling himself that it was for the best.

Until he grew to realize, it was not.

He missed going to Bart's, missed the morgue, missed the lab, but most of all, he missed her. Her smile, her voice, her eyes, everything about her. And he can't bring himself to face her, after doing something horrible. Then John's stories came. The stories of Molly's pregnancy, how she'll have weird cravings, how she'll be happy in a second and then be stark raging mad on the next. Sherlock would pretend to be uninterested, for the sake of the secrecy of his parenthood, but when John leaves, he starts thinking about her. About the family that he had. Could have had, if he wasn't scared. Of how happy he'd be if he wasn't afraid to love them. Then the pictures of the sonogram came. John "accidentally" left the pictures. When he saw his growing son in the womb of the woman that he loved -still loves, he felt himself break at the thought that because of him, he can never have them back. As much as he wants to, he can't. And that's when he felt it; the overwhelming tightening at his chest, causing his breath to hitch up his throat and tears to escape from his eyes. Sherlock Holmes was heartbroken.

* * *

"So, care to tell me what my husband was rambling about?" Mary asked as she sat beside the consulting detective, who now has an ice pack pressed to his jaw. He sighed as he looked down, expecting another blow on the other jaw.

"I'm the father of the child." He said, shutting his eyes, preparing for another strong punch on his jaw.

But it never came.

Like John, Mary didn't know what to feel at this moment. Yes, she should be angry. Hell, she should be stark raging mad! She should be tearing off those curly locks off his head, scratch him, punch him, ensure that he'll never have kids again, if you know what I mean. But she also felt sad for him. She was sad that he never got to experience the things a father would if his wife was pregnant. She was sad that he never got to feel the baby's first kicks. But most of all, she was sad that he will probably never experience those anymore.

Not with Molly, at least.

"I know what you're going to say," Sherlock said, sighing as he did. He stared blankly at the wall. He was an idiot. "You're going to say that I'm an ungrateful bastard for just leaving Molly alone like that. I know that. But believe me when I say this: I did it because I love them. And it hurts. I don't want to feel that I'm not giving them enough love. That I cannot love them. I'd have them hurt now rather than giving them hope and destroying it afterwards. Do you understand, Mary? I love them. I'm just scared of giving it to them." He said, finally looking at Mary, only to see her sad eyes.

Mary never thought that she would see Sherlock on the verge of crying. Now that she understood and she saw the pain in his eyes, she didn't want to tell him anymore; but she has too.

"Its a pity that you love both of them."

"Why?"

"Molly is the reason why we're here. She had a car 's alive, but injured."

"A-And my son?" Sherlock asked. The word was new to him, but he realized that he liked the way it sounds; his son. But it was lost when Mary shook her head. It broke Mary's heart to see him like that; brows creased from pain and tears escaping his eyes. He almost looked like a child who's parents was snatched away from him. As he hid his face in his hands, Mary hugged him, hoping that both of her friends can be fixed. But after such events, she knew that they will never be the same.

* * *

That's it for chapter 4! The feels of this chapter! I know what you're going to say. I'm a mean person. But, hey! You guys got what you wanted; Sherlock got hit! So, please leave a review! Please tell me what you think about the story. I'd like to thank FanficGirl10, Bucky5, and MonsterPrincess for their reviews! I love them! I hope you don't hate me enough to not leave a review. Although, I'm not sure when my next update will be, and I will apologize in advance if it takes me a long time to update, but I promise that things would be better... after a few rough chapters. Again, thanks for reading my story!

~Gabrielle


	5. Crumbling Down

**Hi guys! I'm back! I am REALLY REALLY SORRY that I haven't been updating for a while. Hard to get your hands on a computer from where I am. :P Anyways I saw the follows and I was like OMG cuz I never got that much follows before! Even the reviews! I made a new record with this story! To make it up to you, guys, I give you a long chapter. Anyways, less chatter, and let the fun begin.**

* * *

A dream is a scene or a set of images set loose by your subconscious when sleeping. There are different types of dreams. There are good, there are nightmares, and there's that trip-down-the-memory-lane kind of dream (which is also sort of a nightmare). Molly Hooper was stuck in those three. In her dream was the day Sherlock asked her out for dinner and for her, it was a nightmare. But her mind made it too good to be a nightmare. She knows its her sick mind taunting her, but she can't resist the sweet temptation of going back to that night.

* * *

_It was around 9 in the evening when they left Bart's . Normally, it would be a little bit too late for dinner dates. But then again, Sherlock and Molly weren't normal people, were they?_

_"So, where are we going?" Molly asked, wrapping herself around her neck as Sherlock tried to hail a cab._

_"Well, there's this great Chinese restaurant. Its cheap yet the food there is fantastic," He said without looking at her, very focused on the tedious task of hailing a cab. Until he heard a short giggle from Molly. "What is it?" He asked looking at her._

_"Nothing. Its just that... Sherlock Holmes, the detective who keeps on saying that food is a distraction, rambling about how great the food s at a restaurant." Sherlock said with a smile on her face. Normally, Sherlock would be annoyed if she made a statement like that, but he can't help but smile this time._

_"Well, even though I don't exactly fancy eating, I am still human. So I intend to make eating worth my time." He replied._

_They finally managed to hail a cab and went to the restaurant and Sherlock was right; the food was fantastic. They spent their time talking and, surprisingly, laughing about their past experiences -well most of them were Molly's, but she was too caught up to care. If you didn't know them at all, you would have been sure that they were a normal, happy couple._

_But only one can hope._

_After dinner, Sherlock offered to take her back to her flat. At first, she was hesitant, saying that he should get back to his flat. But in the end, Sherlock got what he wanted. The ride home was awkward since it was filled like silence. But all of it was forgotten when they saw what awaited them at her flat._

_"Hello, Molly."_

_"Tom, what are you doing here?" She asked, stopping dead at her tracks. This is not good._

_"I was going to fetch a few things I left but, since you're 'occupied', I think I'll come back another time," Tom spat, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He stared coldly at Sherlock, who seems to be returning an equally cold one at Tom. "Still chasing after him, aren't you?"_

_"Tom-"_

_"N-N-NO. I won't even bother stopping something that obviously won't happen. Hell, I'm not even feeling jealous at all! But you two carry on. Don't let me spoil the fun," He said before walking away, only to turn around, all of a sudden. "Although, may I just say, I'm betting 50 quid that this pathetic excuse of an arse won't even bother to blink an eye if you left him." He said, before stalking off. Sherlock turned to Molly who looked absolutely stiff._

_"Is that why you've been upset for the last few days?" He asked, concern evident from his voice._

_"Sherlock, I don't want to talk about it. Let's just call it a night."_

_"Molly, I-"_

_"I don't want to talk about it."She said, walking in her building with Sherlock following. Whatever giddy mood Molly was in awhile ago, it was long gone and now replaced with a solemn expression. As for Sherlock, all he was thinking about was shoving his foot into Tom's non-existing di-_

_"So, I this is it." Molly said, cutting him from his obscene thoughts. He didn't even notice that he was outside her door already.__'This is it,' Molly thought. 'The time where he'll turn around as if nothing happened.'_

_"Oh yes... um... Goodnight, Molly." He said, flashing her a smile._

_"Yeah. Um... Goodnight." She said. But somehow, she felt that simply saying goodbye to him wasn't enough. It was a weird tingling feeling in her but she was certain that she won't regret it._

_So she softly laid her palms on his shoulders and reached up to kiss his cheek. But instead of her lips coming in contact with his sharp cheekbones, she felt her lips being pressed into something softer. She opened her eyes to see Sherlock's closed ones, his breathing stilled and his heart beat racing. He looked angelic and innocent. Like he was a young schoolboy experiencing his first kiss._

_They stayed like that for a few seconds before Molly pulled away, blushing as she felt Sherlock unconsciously lean towards her when she did. His eyelids fluttered open and he wanted to say something, but he was speechless._

_"Um... Goodnight, Sherlock." She said as she opened the door to her flat only to feel her being pulled back by the wrist._

_In an instant, she found herself in the arms of the consulting detective, his arms around her waist and their lips pressed wasn't as soft as the first one. It was full of passion and released emotions -emotions they never knew existed. It was then, Molly found herself pulling Sherlock into her flat and slamming the door shut. Her thoughts were right. She doesn't regret her actions. _

_But it was until the following morning, when she realized how wrong she was._

* * *

Molly woke up to see John standing beside the window, arms crossed and lost in thought. He looked a bit rough, but he didn't seem to mind. He turned to face her when he heard the sheets move.

"What time is it?" Molly asked, a hint of drowsiness in her voice.

"Almost eight thirty." He said, looking out to the morning sky again.

Molly sighed.

"Something's wrong, is there?"

"No, everything's absolutely fine," he said calmly before looking at her. "Except for the fact that you didn't tell me that my best friend was the father of your child." His gaze towards her was unreadable. Though John wasn't exactly mad at her, he used this tactic before during his military days; the guilt trip.

"John, I can't. I-"

"You what? You were afraid I was going to hurt him? That's the least of your worries, Molls. If you told me, I could've-"

"Could have what? Convince him to love me? To actually care for me?"

"Molly, you needed him."

"You're damn right I did!" She suddenly shouted. She wasn't the type of person to shout or even get mad at a friend. She was sweet and caring. Mousy Molly.

But that person was long gone, now.

"I needed him, John. And you don't have to be Sherlock Holmes to know that. It was his choice. He told me that he can't love me, and I know that he probably never will, but he was so stupid to think that that was what I needed. He told me that he doesn't want to be with me, that's why he shut me out! He knew I needed him, John. But he didn't want to be with me, so don't go blaming everything on me."

"Molly, Sherlock might be cold but he's not that cold."

"That's what you think." Molly spat at him, giving him a glare that he tried to avoid.

"Molly, what if I told you that he's here?"

"Right now, at Bart's? Ha! I bet he doesn't even know what happened to me. I bet he doesn't know that his son's dead. I bet he doesn't even know that his child's a boy!"

John just sighed.

It was hopeless. This wasn't Molly anymore. If this was Molly, she would be crying her heart out and asking for Sherlock. She'd try to forgive him, but the person in front of him now is just a shell of the person he knew.

"Molly, can you at least try to talk to him? You need to work this out. You don't need to forgive him right away, but you have to talk to him."

Then he saw it; a glimpse of the old Molly through her eyes.

"I-I will, John. But just not today."

"But why not?"

Molly was starting to get irritated. Why can't he just let her handle the situation? She just lost her child, for God's sake, can't she take a break?! John instantly regretted the words he said once he saw the conflict in Molly's eyes.

"I'm sorry. That was wrong. I know you're going through a lot of things right now, and... I just want you to be happy. You don't deserve this, Molls."

"And millions of women who lost their children don't deserve it too. I'm no different, John. I know these things happen everyday and I just need some time to think... To be alone for a while. Will you do that for me, John? And after that, I swear I'll sort things out."

"Yeah. I know. You need some time to grieve."

"Yeah. You of all people should know that."

They both chuckled.

"Well, I'll be going," John said, patting Molly's shoulder before standing up. "Goodbye, Molly. Just call me when anything turns up." She smiled a response as he left. But that smile soon faded as the door closed. She had practiced it well; smiling. For her, it was only a mask that you need to wear in front of people so they'd know you're alright and leave you alone. Molly just sighed and sank on the hospital bed. She still grieves for her son. He was one of the only chances that a part of Sherlock would love her.

"One way or another, he'll never love me." She muttered as she continued looking out of the window.

* * *

**10 Days later...**

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

"Sherlock!" Came John's voice with that you've-obviously-done-something-wrong-now-fix-it tone. John expected an annoyed 'What is it now?' from Sherlock but it never came. Just the light footsteps and the sound of the locks clicking. The door opened and there he was in his grey shirt and sweatpants with his blue dressing gown. He almost looked normal.

Almost.

There was something off about him.

"Yes?" Was all he said, raising an eyebrow as he did.

"May I come in?" He asked and Sherlock just stepped aside. Once John walked in, the stench of cigarettes and alcohol were hard to ignore.

"So why the late night visit? Its about ten in the evening." He said, sitting on his usual chair, picking up his scotch glass and sipping from it.

"Have you been cooped up in her all week living on cigarettes and alcohol?"

"Problem?"

"Its not good for you."

"Apparently everything I ever do isn't good for me. What's the point?"

"Sherlock, what the bloody hell is going on?" John asked, obviously confused.

"Oh, are you really so stupid, John?" John just scoffed. This was not how he expected this meeting to go.

"Stupid? I wasn't the one who gave all that money to Molly! I was the one who stood beside her, when all this time, it should've been you." Sherlock just sighed and leaned back on his chair, closing his eyes as he did so.

"Why are you here, John? To torment me? Because, if you're here for that, you're doing a marvelous job."

"Its not you."

"Then tell me..." Sherlock said, grabbing a cigarette and placing in between his lips.

"Its Molly. Robert called and he was worried about her. She hasn't been eating well, and she works until early morning."

Sherlock was halfway on lighting his cigarette and he stopped when he heard **HER **name. It was her. He spent the whole week cooped up in his flat thinking of her. He sighed and put down his cigarette and his lighter.

"Sherlock. Are you okay?"

He just sat there, staring into space. He leaned back and sighed, making his decision.

"Give me a few minutes."

* * *

Sherlock and John walked through the corridors of Bart's and it was dead silent.; well, to where they're passing by, at least. Only a few people go to the morgue at night. Its either because they have no business there or they're just creeped out.

But not Molly.

She liked being in the morgue. Not because of the dead people, but because of the peace and silence. No one bothers her except for Mike Stamford and Robert, but she wouldn't exactly call it bothering. That was until she lost her son. She would sit behind her desk and continue with the paperwork of the autopsies she performed that day. No rest. Just work.

This is her way of moving on.

Outside the lab, there stood Sherlock, John and Robert.

"How long has she been like this?" John asked Robert, who appeared to be exhausted. His eyes and cheekbones even becoming more hollow, if possible.

"Tree or four days ago. She goes home early in the morning to fix herself, feed her cat and all. Then she comes back half an hour later to continue working."

"And what has Mike been doing? Doesn't he give her a break?"

"He did. He told her to take the week off but she said she was alright," Robert looked through the glass in the door with sad eyes. "But she's not."

"Tell me, Robert. What exactly is your relationship with Molly?" Sherlock asked, obviously annoyed by his sentimental concern for Molly. But John knew better.

Sherlock was jealous.

"We're close friends. She was the first friend I made when I first applied here. She reminds me of my mother back home."

"Home?" John asked.

"Australian." Sherlock stated.

"Don't think she didn't tell me about you, Mr. Holmes, and if I were to ask anyone to help Molly, the thought of you would never cross my mind. You're anything but help to Molly." Robert spat. His icy blue eyes matching his cold stare, and his lips were pulled to a frown.

Sherlock only smirked.

"We'll see." He said, before pushing the doors open.

* * *

Sherlock entered the dim lab. Only a few lights here and there, but it still looked pretty dim. He looked around and he noticed that the lab was more tidier ever since he last set foot in it. And there, he spotted her.

Molly.

She almost looked normal since her head was bowed down and she continued writing. If he didn't know better, he would think that nothing was wrong with her.

But he did.

And despite all his knowledge, he doesn't know how to start a conversation without actually being rude. But for Molly's sake, he'll try.

"Hello, Molly." He said, placing both hands at his back and looked at her. God, she looked beautiful. Why was he such a fool to do those things to her? But alas, no reply. He slowly walked towards her desk, hoping that she'll look up at him.

"How are you?" He simply asked. It was the first thing that popped into his head. But then again, to no avail, Molly didn't answer.

"I take it you're busy then."

"Fuck off." She muttered as she continued scribbling furiously.

"I'm sorry?"

"Fuck off, Sherlock," She said, standing up and arranging the papers. "I just lost a child, about a week ago; MY child. You screw me, you left me, and you gave me tons of cash like I'm some whore and saying that you have nothing to do with this and all you've got to say is 'How are you?'?" Sherlock was frozen on his spot and took a sudden interest on the floor.

This was not going well.

"Molly, I'm sorry," He said, now looking straight into her raging brown eyes. "I really am, Molly."

"Your sorry doesn't change anything. It won't bring my son back and it definitely won't bring me back to you."

"Molly, this isn't good for you. You need to rest."

"Why should you care?"

"Because I lo-" He said, stopping mid sentence. The word forcing its way up from his supposedly non-existent heart, wanting those words to be said, yet it chokes him. "I care about you, Molly." Molly wasn't stupid. She knew what he was supposed to say. The 'L' word. And she almost looked convinced that he really did care for her.

Almost.

Until...

"I love you, Molly."

'No.' Molly thought. 'No. No. No. No. NO! This is not supposed to happen. He doesn't love me. He never will.'

"Well, tough. You lost me on the day you shut me out. I made a mistake, Sherlock. I made a mistake for falling for you. For actually believing you would love me one day. I won't make the same mistake again." She said before collecting her work and brushing past his tall figure and leaving the lab.

And there, Sherlock stood.

Silent.

Still.

Shocked.

It was then, Sherlock felt like everything around him started crumbling down.

* * *

**So that's it for Chapter 5. Poor Sherlock :( Some of you may think he deserves it, but he's still human, though. A human being who doesn't know a single thing about love. Anyways, please review! What should Molly or Sherlock do? Was it good? Bad? Should I stop writing cuz this story is shit? Let me know. :) Thanks to all the supporters out there! Love ya guys! xoxo**

**~Gabrielle**


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